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“Clark, you free after work?”
“Today?” Clark tops off the extra sugar in Lois’ mug, frowning. “I’ve got plans, but if there’s something wrong—”
“Okay, would you believe me if I said things are actually kind of amazing right now?” Jimmy folds his arms, leaning against the wall beside the coffee station. It’s three p.m., AKA crisis hour at the office, with deadlines hot on reporters’ heels and an afternoon crash not far behind, so there’s a decent congregation of staff behind Clark. There had been some disgruntled huffs when they didn’t beat him to the machine before he’d got hold of what could end up being the last of the sugar supply for the day, and he’d dutifully made a show of not measuring out an ounce more than he needed. Which was still practically a cup full, but, well. That was what Lois needed.
“Really?” Clark says, stepping away from the station with the mug and stirrer in hand.
“Oh, yeah, minus the overtime we’ve been putting in after Luthor nearly split Metropolis down the middle, life’s been groovy.”
“So you and Eve—”
“Are the opposite of awful. How about that?”
Clark smiles, tossing the stirrer in the trash. “Then, in other words, they’re great?”
“Now, did I say all that?”
“No…because you’re still afraid to.”
“Fear’s never been a part of the dating equation for me, Clark, are you serious? And I’ll say it eventually. But for now, we’re playing things by ear. And playing with lots of other—”
“Jimmy.” He tosses him a scandalized look. “It’s not my business.”
“Oh, ‘cause we’re on the clock? Like I said, if you’re free—”
“I told you, I have plans. And even if I didn’t, I’d really appreciate if you kept the details to yourself.”
Jimmy pushes off the wall and moves to block his path to their desks. “Plans, huh? What plans?”
Clark sighs. “You know, just–getting dinner with a friend.”
“Lois?”
He sputters. “What–of all the–“
“Clark, save it. Those fake arguments you two put on are not as convincing as you think they are, considering I’m also seated in your vicinity for those longing stares you throw her way every two and a half minutes.”
“That’s so specific, Jimmy!” He whisper-shouts, nervously eyeing over his shoulder to make sure said receiver of his longing, several feet away from them, is still preoccupied with her note board. “It’s–it’s too specific to be true!”
“Specifics are not a marker of a lie, Clark, that is a myth, and so’s the exclusivity of your thing with our head reporter.”
“You’re not making any sense. Go get yourself some coffee, you’re–“ He moves to go around him but Jimmy stubbornly plants himself in that spot next. “What?”
“Look, it’s not like I’m the first to notice. Hell, our chief noticed it.”
He stiffens, and it takes a decent bit of control not to clench the mug in his ensuing panic and have it shatter across the office floor. “The chief…noticed?” he repeats quietly, imagining the painfully awkward trip to HR in his near future.
Jimmy nods, his smile pitying. “Oh yeah. Clocked it before I did, actually. Look, I hoped you and Lois sorted this out already, made it an open relationship kinda thing, but judging by that look you’re giving me–“
“Jimmy. I. Have. No. Idea. What you’re saying to me.”
“Fine, geez. A man tries to be gentle,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck. “Okay, look.” He sweeps a cursory glance around them, before leaning in. “Ois-lay is ooking-hay up with…uh, is Superman one word or two?”
Clark frowns. “Lois is…oh. Wait, how–how did you know that? How did the chief know that?”
Jimmy pauses. “Did you already know that?”
He blinks, quickly schooling his face to one of shock. “No, of course not.“ He clears his throat. “I mean, it’s totally unexpected, right? Just. Wow. I’m just, I’m flabbergasted.”
“You’re flabbergasted.”
“Honestly I don’t know how this ridiculous rumor has gained any traction. Lois and Superman?” He looks down into the coffee mug, trying not to smile when her I-love-you replays in his addled brain. “Maybe on…like, another planet. His planet.” He makes a psh sound, mostly for something to do with his mouth that isn’t grinning like a lovestruck farm boy. “Wherever that is.”
“…right.” Jimmy hesitates, then reaches out to pat Clark’s shoulder consolingly. “Well, denial’s part of the process, I guess. You know, Eve and I are still new to this thing and I still shudder to think of her as part of his harem.”
“Superman doesn’t have a harem!” Clark retorts too loudly, drawing semi-concerned looks from surrounding staff.
“Does Superman’s harem come with free coffee?” Lois calls out without looking up from her computer. “Preferably the kind that doesn’t take ten years to arrive?”
Clark forces a laugh, like he and Jimmy were merely bantering and Lois’ addition was the funniest thing on Earth and maybe Krypton. “Ha. Be right over, Lois. Jimmy wanted my two cents on some opinion piece he’s trying to get greenlit by the editorial board.”
She raises her brows, leaning her chin into her palm as she tracks her mouse across her monitor. “Well it sounds like he’s on the right track.”
They send furtive glances her way, overly casual smiles frozen to their faces, before Jimmy whacks his chest. “All the subtlety of a freaking clown in a noir film.”
“Sorry for taking ethical journalism seriously,” Clark huffs.
“It’s not unethical to casually wonder if an alien might be as allergic to the concept of monogamy as me in my freshmen year of college.”
Or you right now, Clark thinks grumpily, but it feels too mean to gripe out loud. “Look, whatever Lois is or isn’t doing with Superman, and I’m strongly stressing the isn’t as these are all totally unfounded rumors–it isn’t for you to be spreading around the office, Jimmy.”
“Clark, I’m not spreading anything. I’m a listener. People have told me I have an approachable face.” He looks around, sucking in his lips. “Annnnd the chief and I noticed she spent at least five minutes in that abandoned building with the man of the hour without even a quote to show for it.”
“W–well–well take it from me! Superman, he’s–he’s a horrible interviewee.”
“Really,” Jimmy says dryly.
“Yes! Just the worst. I swear, trying to get usable stuff out of this guy, it’s like…” He thinks of Krypto, the unruly pup, gnawing on the end of his cape. “Like trying to wrangle a badly trained dog for a walk.” He winces a little at the dehumanizing analogy, but he is talking about himself, so… “Super nice, charming guy, don’t get me wrong, but not made for media. I can imagine the hard time he gave Lois.”
Jimmy looks up at the ceiling, clearing his throat. “Uh huh, so can I.”
“I…don’t like how you’re saying that.”
He merely smiles. “I think your coffee’s getting cold.” With a patronizing pat to his shoulder, he heads back to his desk.
Lois is already holding a hand out when Clark approaches. “Next time, just toss it over.”
“It’s hot coffee.”
“With extra sugar. I’d never let that kind of delicacy stain the floor.”
He hands it to her and nervously straightens his tie, glancing Jimmy’s way. The reporter instantly jerks his head away, spinning around in his chair. And Clark’s the one with no subtlety?
“Lois,” Clark whispers, pretending to look through the opened copy of yesterday’s The Daily Planet on her desk.
“Huh? Oh, right. Thank you, Clark.” She shoos him, typing determinedly with one hand and sipping with the other. “You can go now.”
“We need to talk,” he insists.
She stops what she’s doing and looks up at him seriously. “Life or death, Clark?”
“…no. No, definitely not.”
“Okay, good. So it can wait until after I submit for my deadline?”
He frowns thoughtfully. Technically, it could, but…
“Great,” she says sunnily without waiting for another response. “We’ll talk later.”
Suppressing a groan, Clark sits back in his chair, left with his unsettled reflection in the monitor’s black screen.
“Hello, hello, hold that elevator, please!”
Lois hits the open button before her better sense can weasel in, and consequently, it’s Trish, the paper’s gossip columnist, who slips through the doors.
“God, what a day.” She slumps against the wall, pulling her phone out. “I told Perry I’m slipping out early to hunt for a story but truthfully it’s Martini Mondays at Milady’s.” She lowers her glasses a bit to smile cunningly at Lois. “Where the best stories surface, sometimes. So pray that I’ll kill two birds with one stone, hm?”
“Sure will, Trish, but I don’t think you’ve ever needed prayers for that.”
“Oh, flattery. Ugh, I can feel the life returning to my body. Are you headed out, too? You’re welcome to join me. Steve asked earlier but unfortunately I’d rather die.”
“Thanks, but I’m just stepping out to grab a late lunch.”
“And then back to chaining yourself to your desk? It’s not necessary, you know. Frankly I’m not sure you could turn in a bad article if you blindfolded yourself mid-draft.”
Lois smirks, head tilting. “Something I can help you with, Trish?”
Trish returns her smile evenly, pocketing her phone. “You know me too well.” She slips on her sunglasses as the elevator doors open to the lobby. “You also know the grapevine can have plenty of tricky little knots.”
“Absolutely. But it’s your job to undo them, right?”
“Theoretically. But sometimes that requires an extra hand or two. See, I’m hearing all manner of mumblings but nothing worthwhile. What a stroke of fate that the source of truth would be taking her lunch break while I’m making my escape.”
Note to self, Lois thinks irritably, half-wishing the bustling crowd outside would swarm her until she was invisible to the columnist’s prying eye, this is what happens when you don’t take lunch at your desk.
“The source of truth also only has fifteen minutes to spare and counting, so–“
“So I’ll be quick. Look, never mind the people saying you’ve seen his inner sanctum, or got married in outer space, or whatever muck gets drudged up when this office gets infected with boredom–“
“Excuse me, what did you just–“
“All I want to know is if there is truly enough of a thread with you and Superman for you to put a good word in. Because I’m working on a piece covering the changing attitudes of Metropolis citizens after that whole Lex Luthor fiasco, and if they’ve truly begun to trust Mister Tall Dark and Kryptian again–“
“Kryptonian,” Lois blurts out.
Trish’s eyes light up. “Oh, has he told you much about home? Or the relationship customs there? Because I also have an eager crowd of readers dying to know if that harem is open to applications.”
“My God, Trish, I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start with the truth, Lois.” Her eyes glitter innocently, as she effortlessly keeps pace with the disgruntled reporter. “That’s usually your M.O.”
“If I could get Superman’s input on a whim, don’t you think my work would reflect that? Whatever you think is happening with me and him–whoever he really is–forget it. I had one very brief conversation with him after Lex Luthor nearly pulverized the city and it was barely enough to make us associates. Who’s saying otherwise?”
“Well, probably someone who was nearby when this very brief conversation ended and you exited the building. And would know the difference between a reporter who’s just had another career win and a woman who’s just discovered what else a superhero is good for.”
You try being kissed ten feet in the goddamned air and see if life doesn’t cast itself in a brand new light for you, Lois might have said if it’d been ten hours since her last decent meal and not three. But her favorite sushi place is coming into view like a beacon, promising to reward her hard work with more than just petty gossip.
“That someone is mistaken. I was doing my job,” Lois says firmly. “And if you all keep kicking this stupid rumor around, I’m going straight to Perry.”
Trish snort-laughs. “Who also saw you go into and out of that building with a smile on your face?”
“You know what? I’m at ten minutes and counting now.” Lois stops near the sushi storefront, sidestepping the late afternoon crowd hurrying down the street. “I’ve told you all there is to know about me and Superman, Trish, and it’s pretty damn PG. You want a real line to him? Try Clark Kent, the reporter who actually gets more than three words out of the guy.” She crosses her arms. “Anything else?”
Trish clasps her hands in front of her, smiling. “No, I think you’ve cleared things up beautifully.”
“Hooray,” Lois says tiredly, turning for the door to a workaholic’s paradise–otherwise known as three sushi rolls, a seaweed salad, and a crisp cola since she’d already exhausted her second coffee allowance of the day. “See you around, Trish.”
Upon shoving open the door, Lois barely registers the sound of sizzling in her apartment, eerily on par with the state of her temper, when Clark appears before her in a flash.
She knows it’s probably poor practice in general to give a man the key to her apartment three months into dating him but there’s an exception somewhere for a Superman. And most certainly for a Clark, who still texts an hour before dinner “just to make sure” they’re still on and if it’s “okay” that he gets set up.
“Lois, we need to–“
“Your desk was gathering dust when I got back from lunch.”
“–talk to–“ He blinks, processing what she said, and absently takes her bag from her to hang on the rack. “Well, yes, because you took lunch at four.”
“Yeah…?”
“And I left at four forty-five because I had to save a–anyway–never mind, I need to talk to you now.” He stops himself, staring down at her, and she raises an eyebrow. “Also, hi.” He kisses her, chaste at first, before swooping in for another, cupping her face , and she reaches up to grasp his wrists, her irritation melting from the desire that streams in. “I’m making…” He pulls slightly on her bottom lip, eyes hooded as he watches it rear back into place. “…chicken stir fry.”
Trish’s earlier gossip-fishing is still a nuisance weighted over the usual laidback mood that Lois tries to nurture after she puts her work brain in a box for a few hours. Well, an unlocked box. Always within reach. And the lid doesn’t completely close, so she can see inside easily enough…
The point being? Work-life balance is a process that she gets pretty familiar with somedays and waves away in disgust the next. Today’s an anomaly, with work and her personal life blurring together in ways she should’ve foreseen when she publicly agreed to “a quick interview” with Metropolis’ beloved hero and the guy who’s making her chicken stir fry in her kitchen. Sue her for thinking her coworkers had bigger things to worry about after a narrowly avoided city-wide crisis.
“Please don’t burn it,” Lois says, resting her hands on his chest. “My day’s already kind of sucked.”
Eyebrows furrowing, he soothingly strokes his thumb along her cheekbone, a temporary line traced through her worries. “Has it? Why’s that?”
“Trish Q has set her sights on me.”
“Oh no,” Clark groans. “Guess we’ll need to be extra careful.”
“I don’t think it’s me and you she’s concerned with, it’s me and–“
“Hold that thought.” He kisses her forehead, then grabs her hand to pull her into the kitchen. “Really don’t want to make you eat charred vegetables on top of a Trish attack.”
“It was less of an attack and more of an–“
“Interrogation?”
“A…conversation. One that was only intended to go one way, and when I wasn’t playing into it, she…maybe gave up? I don’t know. Like,” she stops to grab at Clark’s shoulders when he lifts her up onto the countertop beside him, where she usually keeps him company while he works at the stove, “I think I’m honestly very well-versed in her game by now, but Trish is good. She’ll get things out of people that they don’t even realize they’re giving her, and what if I slipped up when I was only trying to play defense?” She throws her hands up. “You know?”
Clark adds the noodles to the stir fry, nodding intently with his tongue between his lips. “She really tried to have you on the ropes, huh?” He sends her a sympathetic glance and it makes her want to burrow into him until this day disappears. But she tamps the urge when, strangely, recognition seems to dawn on him. “Now, hold on a second. Lois, was this–was Trish asking you about Superman?”
She sighs, kind of glad he beat her to the punch so she could cut straight to the heart of her rant. “Yes, can you believe that? Wait, did she try to sweep you for intel too?” She sits up straighter. “Is that what you were trying to tell me earlier?”
“Yeah that’s what I–wait, no, it wasn’t Trish I talked to, it was Jimmy. He was telling me that he apparently knows we’re dating but that you’re ‘hooking up’ with Superman and our boss knows something about it too though I hope he never tries to broach that conversation because I’d just about–“
“Clark, oh my God, what the hell!” She smacks his shoulder. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Lois, honey, I tried, if you recall?”
“Well you could’ve been pushier about it! Christ, does the entire office know?”
“I really think it’s just whispers right now, but it’s hard to say.” He sighs, shutting off the stove and turning his full attention on her, rubbing calming hands up the sides of her thighs. Well, supposed to be calming. But with how fired up this news has gotten her, she’s ten short seconds from finding a more direct outlet for her mounting stress. “What did Trish ask you?”
She rolls her eyes in remembrance. “If I had a direct line to Superman and could put a good word in to get you on her column.”
“Huh. Should I be expecting any phone calls this week?”
“Maybe. I did mention she’d have better luck pestering Clark Kent.”
“Psh. That…dork, having ties to Superman? Might be too far-fetched even for the gossip column.”
“That dork sure does know how to paint him in the right light though. Hey, maybe I need to write a scathing article in return. Make it so no one thinks I’d be caught dead with my tongue down your throat.”
“But–“
“Quick, give me a quote I can take out of context.”
He laughs, squeezing her thighs. “Okay, let’s see, uhh.” He clears his throat dramatically, dropping his voice an octave. “Miss Lane, there’s nothing quite like a victory to remind us that Metropolis is only as strong as the people in it. I might be the symbol that sometimes helps them find that strength but I don’t carry this city alone. I serve it, and I learn from it, every single day.”
She can always count on Clark to ooze sincerity even when she’s being facetious. A fond smile curves her mouth and she kisses his nose, humming thoughtfully. “Alright, wow. Headline in the making.”
“Yeah?”
“Yup. Superman Admits to Blindly Embracing Symbolism without Substance.”
“Ouch, Lois.”
“Well show me the substance then, pal. And maybe I’ll add it in a make-up piece months down the line, when this stupid rumor has died down.”
He smiles, leaning in to kiss her neck softly. “I’d show you but you haven’t even eaten yet.”
She giggles, throwing her head back and he follows her path, kissing up her throat. “God, sometimes I forget you’re not a complete Boy Scout.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Wouldn’t say that. Maybe later tonight, we can bring that energy back?” She whispers, coaxing him to eye-level, and he nods a little, dazed at the implication. “And until then, can we agree that we will never again use an interview as an excuse to make out while you’re still in costume?”
He scrunches his mouth on one side, head tilting. “Giving up the victory kisses seems like an extreme correction to what miiiight just be talk between a handful of bored coworkers.”
“We’re not giving them up, genius, we’re changing locations.”
“Should I still wear the suit?”
“How is that even relevant?” she grumbles, glancing away to avoid his big grin. “Obviously you should still wear the suit.”
“Is it the primary colors that do it for you? I can start reconfiguring my Clark wardrobe–“
“Actually I was thinking you should enter your emo era as Clark, throw people off the scent a little.”
“Hold on, what people? Are they onto my secret?”
“No, but where one rumor builds, another isn’t far behind!”
“I think we’ve got a few gaps before those connections start being made.”
She pats his cheek. “You say that now…”
“And won’t need to say it later–“ He kisses her. “Because as long as we don’t fuel the fire, this will all be forgotten. Squashed by the next bundle of work drama. I’m betting it’s Jimmy ending another relationship–“
“Fling’s the word you’re looking for.”
“Jimmy ending another fling slash relationship in the middle of the office.”
“So you don’t think he and Eve will last?”
“I think I’d like them to but the guy’s got a pattern.” Clark exhales. “People can change though. I know that.”
“They sure can. Sometimes they even get struck with amnesia overnight and forget that a coworker snuck inside an abandoned building to either interview or defile a certain superhero.”
“Defile?” Clark grins, dimples and all. “Why, Miss Lane.”
She smirks, flicking his forehead. “You know what, put your glasses back on. If we’re shutting down the Superman rumor before it can take flight, I shouldn’t even be looking at him.”
“But it’s easier to kiss you when I have them off.”
“We’ll adapt, big guy. For now, worry about that stir fry going cold.” She leans back on her palms, watching him spoon stir fry into her favorite bowl. “And if people wanna insist on listening to the grapevine, I’m going to start choking them with it.”
“You know, they say besides flowers, cheap work coffee is the way to a woman’s heart.”
“…”
“So you…you just keep on keeping on, buddy.”
“Jimmy, I’m fine. Stop looking at me like you’re sad for me.”
“Aw, hey, I’m-really, I’m just preemptively sad for me. I mean if he could pull Lois, who’s next, you know? Eve? Just when I’m starting to get into the idea of long-term? What a mess.”
The last few shakes of sugar flutter into the steamed pool of coffee, reminiscent of Clark’s patience.
Usually, he has lots of it, but it’s been known to have its tipping points. Like when badly behaved but good-hearted super dogs get snatched from their sanctum. Or when there’s continued talk of rumors that, if left unchecked, could encourage the wrong people to use Lois to get to Superman.
“You really do have the wrong idea about all this.”
“So you talked to her, huh?”
“Maybe you should too. Straight to the source instead of speculating, isn’t that what a good reporter does?”
“Probably but I’d have to ask a good reporter to be sure.” He jokes briefly, but when Clark only stirs the sugar wordlessly, he sighs. “Look, I only brought it up because I know you like her. And I like both of you. But I didn’t want you to get any false expectations like the sap you are–“
“Excuse–“
“When really, some people are moving at their own pace. Possibly with Metropolis’ most wanted bachelor.”
Lois set the pace from the start, Clark never had any illusions about that. Thing was, he was always content to follow her lead because her intuition is sharp as a knife and her heart is never far behind. He loves that about her, and was never very good at burying those emotions.
But wearing his heart on his sleeve hadn’t let him down. It guided him up through the air, the woman of his dreams with him, whispering “I love you too” and propelling him back to outer space with the confession alone.
I might be a sap, Jimmy, but it’s people like her that have made it impossible for my heart to shrink an inch.
“We’ll be just fine, Jimmy.” He cups the freshly prepared coffee in one hand, not minding the temperature. “And you owe it to her to shut down those rumors if you catch wind of them again. No matter how approachable folks find you.”
“I get it, loverboy.” Jimmy pats his back. “C’mon, let’s get her that coffee.”
At the trio’s desks, the scent of newly filled coffees and idle between-work chatter attracts Trish Q, a moth to the vibrant flame of small talk and all it can unearth for her weekly column. She flashes Lois and Jimmy a winsome smile, then parks herself right on the edge of Clark’s desk, peering down at him through round rimmed glasses.
“Hey there, Clark. You got a second?”
“I…do have a second.” He briefly glances at Lois, who’s watching him over the rim of her coffee cup, eyes widening knowingly. “What’s going on, Trish?”
“Not much which is precisely the problem, seeing as my readers trust me to cut through the haze and deliver every single week, right?” She eyes him. “You know something, Clark? You work smart. I feel like you and I are similar in that way.”
“Well I–“
“See there is no such thing as deadline stress with you, is there? Because you know what always sells? Superman. And you know who always happens to be at your beck and call?” She smiles slightly, dropping her voice to a stage whisper. “Super. Man.”
Before this can pivot somewhere really dangerous for him, Clark tries to maneuver back to safety. “Ha, well, I just try to go where the big monsters are. Or the cats stuck in trees. The red and blue’s pretty easy to spot from there.”
“Oh, of course.” She claps her hands together. “And a sight for sore eyes at that, am I right?”
He hesitates when she waits, drawing out the silence for what he was sure was a rhetorical question. “Not a bad looking guy. Trish, are you…interested? Because I don’t think he’d appreciate me breaching our professional relationship by having me matchmake for him.”
She laughs loudly. “Well, if he didn’t go for brunettes, I might’ve tried my hand.”
“Look, is this about Lois? Because like I told Jimmy–“
“All he gave her was a dreadful interview, yes, so I’ve heard. Because he saves all his best material…” She runs her eyes over him, assessing. “For you.”
Gears spinning, Clark’s eyes dart to Lois. Her mug is frozen on mid-air, her jaw hanging open in disbelief.
“Trish, I’m not sure I know what you’re implying.”
“Oh, not implying anything, Clark, I really only came here with a modest request.” She taps his desk encouragingly and steps back down to the floor. “Send your boyfriend a copy of my last column and see if he’ll send me a few pull quotes for this week’s, hmm? I promise to be nothing but kind.”
“Yeah I don’t know, he doesn’t really–wait–“ Clark leans out of his chair, fumbling to keep his glasses straight. “What did you call him?”
“I was under the impression it’s what you call him but I know labels are so tired these days.”
“I don’t call him that, Trish! I just show up at the right place, at the right time!”
“Oh, goodness.” She clutches her heart, holding another hand out towards him, backing away all the while. “That’s so romantic.”
“It’s not.” He stands from his chair, calling out, “I track the news cycle, I very literally just know where to go! Trish, you can’t–“
“This is fascinating material, Clark, but gossip column or not, I still abide by on-the-record material! Have him call. Me. Alright byeeeee!” She waves both hands and sharply turns, skirt swishing around her ankles.
In utter shock, he turns to Lois and Jimmy, uselessly reiterating, “I’m not dating Superman.” The two of them share a long look and Clark fails to decipher it. “What?”
“This isn’t adding up,” Jimmy says with narrowed eyes. “If Superman dates men and was sourcing them from The Daily Planet, why was I not considered?”
“Why don’t you ask him, Jimmy?” Lois adds, barely controlling her smile.
“Clark, why don’t you ask him?”
“Because he’d never let me interview him again if I started prying into his secret personal life.”
“Ouch, well, how’s this relationship gonna work out if you can’t even ask questions?”
“Right?”
“Lois!”
“Sorry…sorry for advocating for healthy relationships.”
“Amen, sister.”
“You guys are the worst.”